


Tomb Rated

by frogfarm



Series: Buffy Etcetera: (Shorts) By Request [15]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Challenge Response, F/F, Turbolift
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-09-09
Updated: 2007-09-09
Packaged: 2019-01-30 06:42:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12648225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frogfarm/pseuds/frogfarm
Summary: Hermione's never been trapped underground with a Slayer before.Buffy S3 / Hermione Year 5.





	Tomb Rated

**Author's Note:**

> For the Passion and Perfection [Turbolift Mini-Challenge](https://passion-perfect.livejournal.com/149200.html).

"Stupid thing." A cloud of dust rises in the lone shaft of sunlight, as Buffy slaps shut her phone in disgust. "I just know there's a way to blame this on Bill Gates."

"We're three hundred feet underground." Hermione feels safe rolling her eyes, sitting as she is in the darkest corner. Sarcasm may be counterproductive, but she has to find satisfaction somewhere.

"Willow says everything can be blamed on the dark prince of Redmond." The Slayer pierces the phone with her deadliest glare, shoving the recalcitrant piece of technology back in the side pocket of her khakis. The matching jacket, tank top and braid complete the Lara Croft look, which Hermione thinks is deliberate. Also slightly pretentious.

"Your model's probably outdated." She uses the patronizing tone she normally saves for Slytherins, or Ron when he's particularly being a twat. "Every mobile nowadays has GPS."

The Slayer's gaze narrows. "See this? This is me, not losing my temper. _Not_ throwing my spanking new phone at a cave wall. Or at the head of an unhelpful witch?"

"Yes. Ever so helpful." Her own eyes roll again, practically on their own volition. "Almost as much as finding a convenient scapegoat who had nothing whatever to do with our being _three hundred feet underground_."  
  
"And this is me _starting_ to lose my temper." Buffy stalks over to the witch's corner. "Because I've been thinking. We got a positive ID, you verified the location. We could have been out of here if you hadn't been screwing around --"

"I was taking _notes_." The unexpected venom is almost a shock, but she's held back too long. "And I wasn't the one who chose to activate the hidden trap --"

Buffy's eyebrows shoot into the stratosphere. "Hello? Hidden! And maybe you shouldn't be throwing stones at the person who kept your squishy little self from getting -- squished!"

Hermione ignores this outburst, hauls herself upright with a wince. The pain in her shoulder has faded since the fall, and it's high time to start analyzing the situation rationally.

Buffy squints at the ragged opening far above. "I think I can climb it."

"You're _not_ going to." Normally she excels at sounding patient and reasonable, if not so much the being.

"Then what?" Buffy pulls off the jacket; tiny frame, sparely sculpted muscle in a thin white undershirt. "We hope Giles gets sick of calling and figures out something went wrong? The only thing I'm _not_ doing, is sitting around on my ass waiting to be rescued."

Hermione shrugs, affecting disdain. Buffy turns away, starts checking her pockets.

"And if you've got any other problems? Now's the time to get it out."

Hermione stares, lost in planes and angles and curves. "Not planning on coming back?"

"I can call Giles when I get to the surface. You're not going to run out of air, so just -- sit tight."

"And let you just abandon me?" She can't help a pang of fear. "I think not --"

"I'm the Slayer." Buffy's voice is hard and final. "That means I'm in charge."

"I seem to recall Mr. Giles recommending that you defer to _my_ judgment."

Buffy ignores her, tearing strips of lining from her coat, wrapping her hands. "And that means I help people. Even bossy know-it-alls who don't play well with others."

"As I understand it, you've been having a problem with that." Hermione folds her arms over her chest, straightening uncomfortably under the intense stare. "Something about a Slayer that doesn't know her place?"

It's like a switch has been thrown, deep freeze. "That's none of your business."

"But this is! We're _both_ trapped here. Or hadn't you noticed?"

"Noticed. Not talking." Buffy surveys the steep rock that surrounds hem, pacing off toward one wall. "Doing."

"Bloody muggle."

She regrets it immediately. The other woman doesn't turn around.

"You know, I've only heard that word once before. And the person who said it? Was referring to you."

Hermione doesn't respond. She's trying to think of a spell as she sits back down on the cold stone, listens to the Slayer finish gearing up.

"Hey." Buffy's standing over her, looking genuinely concerned; smudged cheeks clashing with the remains of pink lipgloss. "Don't worry. I'll be back."

"Promise?"

"Promise." Buffy holds out her hand. "Now come on. Gimme a boost."

  


* * *

  


 

While the sex was great, the awkward after made up for it, not the least of which was that both of them secretly thought Buffy deliberately slipped and used that as an excuse. Also, two weeks later Willow let slip that she hadn't called Buffy's phone first, but had actually been in brief telepathic contact right as the Slayer was ravishing her 'British import' on an impromptu bed made from discarded clothes. That this was completely inadvertent did little to diminish anyone's discomfort, and Hermione took refuge and comfort in their victory over the demon cult, as well as Buffy's embarrassment when Faith gave her a high-five at the airport.

In a more evil universe, this culminated in Hermione returning from England later that year, fighting alongside Buffy to defeat Mayor Wilkins while Faith lay in a coma.

In the less evil one, Buffy sent Hermione a postcard, and Willow gave Buffy a toaster.

In this universe? These two didn't meet again until years later.

But that's another story.


End file.
